We began a little "Come to Jesus" party on our house last night (out with the garbage and the cobwebs, in with the Clorox and the Orange Glo). The fun will continue through Sunday, as we are having an Open House in an attempt to sell it in this crazy market.
We put it up on the market in May, and this summer marks the third year we've lived in it. It's an entry-level house for us, a small 3BR/1BA cottage in an older section of town. We've started to out-grow a few places (namely, the 1BA), and now that a few of our friends are starting to settle into houses around town, we'd like to position ourselves so that our kids can one day play together after school.
We've had a few nibbles, but mostly not much interest. Which is okay, really. We really could do some things to make this house work well for us for the future. But I think that's probably why God's been so silent on the matter. My demands of God usually sound something like, "Okay, God if you will just tell me what your plan is, I promise that I will handle all the details from there." My God knows that if He told me this morning what His plan was for our house, I would say, "Thanks!" and turn around and start making a list of things that we "should be doing" for the next 5 years, according to this one moment of direction from God. Then, six months down the road, I would feel justified to blame him as the reason for why things weren't working out.
So, here I am...waiting. And praying that if He does allow me a glimpse of His plan, that I will only use it to trust Him more and not to take control over that which He has allowed me to know.
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